


hold my hand

by symmetrophobic



Category: GOT7
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-06
Updated: 2018-01-06
Packaged: 2019-03-01 01:26:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13284027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/symmetrophobic/pseuds/symmetrophobic
Summary: Bambam develops a fascination with Jinyoung's fingers, and Jinyoung doesn't exactly stop him.





	hold my hand

**Author's Note:**

> reposting some stuff over from a few years ago! originally a prompt fill on 7fics :)

“Your hands are pretty.”

The first time Bambam says it, Jinyoung thinks he’s joking. There are much prettier things about him, (like his eyes (people call them catlike, though he thinks they just slant weirdly), his nose (which the stylists say is “slender” or something), or his skin, or his ears, or something, just why his _hands?_ ). He glances down to where their fake maknae is curled over his thighs like a cat, grinning up at him rather creepily, then to the way their fingers are messily entwined, Bambam’s thumb running pleasant circles around his palm.

“You think so?” Jinyoung smiles absently, half his mind on the dance break routine they’re supposed to be memorising, that he _had_ been memorising, until Bambam decided to come over and play kitty over his lap. They’re in the practice studio, forced into one of the tiny five-minute breaks between hourly dance practice bouts, and Jaebum and Yugyeom had gone to buy snacks for the rest of them: Jaebum because he’s the leader and leaders are usually cornered into manual labour by invisible rules of thumb, and Yugyeom because he’s the maknae and everyone bullies maknaes, regardless of how many heads taller they are than you.

“They’re fair,” Bambam twists his body, stretching on Jinyoung’s lap, still clinging onto Jinyoung’s hand like it’s some sort of prize, and Jinyoung raises an eyebrow.

“They’re…what?”

“Fair,” Bambam grins like a Cheshire cat. “You have fair skin, hyung. You should see Jackson’s hands. It’s like looking at a coal mine compared to yours.”

“I heard that, brat,” Jackson calls out from across the room, grinning as he pulls his sweaty overshirt and stalks over, and Bambam scrambles off Jinyoung’s lap, ducking the smelly fabric and sprinting off, squealing out apologies, and though Jinyoung smiles, for some reason he can’t help but feel a little down at the loss of contact.

 

The next time is a little more obvious, which makes Jinyoung more confused than anything.

“Your hands are pretty, hyung,” Bambam is sprawled out over Jinyoung like a fur rug in their hotel room, on Jinyoung’s bed, because Bambam has never understood the meaning of personal space and probably never will. (Also because sharing a room with the maknaes means taking the extra bed in their hotel room, too). Somehow, Jinyoung doesn’t mind so much about his personal bubble being invaded, only when it comes to Bambam.

“What makes you say that?” Jinyoung raises an eyebrow, looking up from his book for the first time that night, fixing Bambam with a curious look. He wonders, for a moment, if this is some ritualistic Thai wooing technique or something, and if he’s missing something here.

Bambam, in return, pries one of Jinyoung’s hands from the book, turning them over in his own hands, easily tracing every line and nook with surprising familiarity, smiling in absent interest as one would when watching a video or reading a good book.

“They’re slender,” he finally replies, tugging at the tips of Jinyoung’s fingers, and Jinyoung shoots him an amused smile, half puzzled and half pleased. “They remind me of a Disney princess, hyung.”

That makes Jinyoung roll his eyes and shift his body, threatening to roll Bambam off the bed, and Bambam yelps, clinging on and giggling, planting himself on Jinyoung’s body and refusing to be pushed off.

“What’s with you and hands all of a sudden, hm?” Jinyoung asks after three unsuccessful attempts to pitch Bambam from the foldable bed. Bambam perks up at the question, looking for all Jinyoung knows like an excited baby deer.

“It’s not anyone’s hands, hyung,” the smile spreads again, the goofy, creepy one that makes Jinyoung want to laugh. “Just yours.”

Jinyoung blinks at the connotations of that single sentence, about to open his mouth and ask, before the bathroom door opens and Yugyeom exits in a cloud of steam, rubbing a towel into his hair. Bambam promptly calls out an invitation for him to come over and help him squish Jinyoung into juice, provoking a rather immature pillow and blanket fight between the three of them that only stops when a confused Jaebum comes in to announce lights out later.

Jinyoung’s both confused and pleased again, but this time, more of the latter than the former (which surprises him, but then again, Bambam surprises everyone).

 

“Your hands are pretty, hyung.”

This time, Jinyoung thinks he’s prepared (but he never is, really, because no one can be prepared when it comes to Bambam), when they’re in the back of the van and Youngjae is snoring on Jinyoung’s right, and Bambam’s _supposed_ to be sleeping on Jinyoung’s left.

“This again?” Jinyoung says, half under his breath, because he doesn’t want to wake the rest of them, not when they have another performance in two hours and only had three hours of sleep the night before. “Shouldn’t you be sleeping?”

“When am I ever doing what I should be doing?” Bambam grins, fingers still wrapped around Jinyoung’s left hand possessively. Then, after a pause: “do you wanna know why, hyung?”

“If I do, will you go to sleep?” Jinyoung gives him a warning look, and Bambam sighs dramatically and nods, ever obedient to the orders of the group’s umma.

“Alright then, why?”

Bambam leans closer, harmless malice alight in his eyes, and Jinyoung flushes slightly at the intimate movement, trying his best to suppress the urge to lean away.

“Because they’re so _soft_ , hyung, just like you.”

Then Bambam giggles, like the absolute brat he is, and turns around promptly, sniggering out a “night, hyung” before closing his eyes and pretending to be asleep, leaving Jinyoung blushing and slightly breathless, and glaring at the boy beside him.

“Brat,” he mutters under his breath, before trying to close his eyes to get some sleep before their performance later, and he almost swears he sees the edges of Bambam’s lip tilt upwards in a smirk just before he does so.

 

The last time it happens without Jinyoung understanding what’s going on, they’re in his room, _his_ home ground, which should mean that Jinyoung should have some sort of advantage over the Thai native, but somehow it seems Bambam’s always one step ahead, dancing just out of reach of Jinyoung’s comprehension.

“Your hands are pretty, hyung.”

Jinyoung sighs, familiar with the routine now. “I guess you’re expecting me to ask you why?”

“Of course, hyung,” Bambam beams with fake innocence up at Jinyoung, the sight both annoying and endearing (but mostly endearing). He’s clinging onto Jinyoung’s hand again, the right one this time, his own fingers tangled with Jinyoung’s.

“If I ask you why, will _you_ tell me why you’re doing all this?”

“Of course,” Bambam agrees, and Jinyoung’s heart jumps a little at the easy promise.

“Okay, why?”

Bambam holds their hands up, so Jinyoung can see it as clearly as he can, and turns a little to grin at Jinyoung.

“Because they fit perfectly with mine.”

Jinyoung blinks, before propping himself up on one elbow so he’s looking properly at the boy, who’s still gazing at their entwined hands.

“Why are you doing this, Bambam?” he asks, hoping to finally be able to get an answer out of the boy, brow furrowed with confusion. “Why do you keep calling my hands pretty?”

Bambam turns his large, doe eyes to Jinyoung then, all expressive and confident and cheery, but for the first time, Jinyoung thinks he sees a flash of hesitance in the boy’s eyes. His voice doesn’t falter, though when he says what he does next.

“Because you’re pretty, hyung. You’re beautiful.”

Jinyoung flushes, both at the cheesiness and the intimacy of that one line, but mostly at the sincerity shining behind Bambam’s eyes, that tells him he might actually truly understand and believe the meaning behind that simple sentence.

He doesn’t have the time to react before Bambam is snuggling against his body, yawning under the thick blanket, looking all ready to sleep right then and there.

“Yah, brat, don’t sleep here on the floor, your spine will go wonky,” Jinyoung mutters, pushing Bambam’s slender frame, and Bambam looks up, eyes wide with hope and tinged with a certain apprehension that makes Jinyoung melt into a puddle of goo on the inside.

“And…” Jinyoung exhales, before giving in. “Thank you for that, Bambam,” he murmurs, lifting a hand to run through the boy’s hair, still damp and spiky from his shower, softening impossibly more as Bambam beams at him, curling closer around him contentedly. His voice goes quieter, just for what he’s about to say next, just for this moment, because it’s just for Bambam and Bambam only to hear.

“I think you’re beautiful too.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> apps are open for 7fics now! do check out our twitter/tumblr @7fics for more info if you're interested! :)


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